


when a lion kisses a deer

by kkumkkatcher



Category: Harry Potter - Fandom, Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Angst, Harry Potter AU, M/M, i know this has already been done but, may or may not have been emo bc fantastic beasts, there is a plot twist, this is a cool idea i promise guys
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-21
Updated: 2017-01-01
Packaged: 2018-09-10 20:45:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8938441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kkumkkatcher/pseuds/kkumkkatcher
Summary: The “L” words that Viktor Nikiforov had never once encountered: life, love. Yuri Katsuki would give him both and one more: loss.
Harry Potter AU, where Viktor is/was a student at Koldovstoretz and Yuri, a student at Mahoutokoro (legit schools according to God Rowling); Quidditch is their sport, Viktor cheats (at quidditch don't worry), Yuri falls (both senses) and rather than sparks, they fly. 
There’s also a huge plot twist. Look out for that.





	1. Toska

**Author's Note:**

> [insert infomercial music]
> 
> Hey you! Are you looking for word-vomit type fanfiction?
> 
> Do you like authors who promise to upload frequently but end up taking 3 month hiatuses :((( ??
> 
> Do you like to read unbeta-d stories with much angst and spelling mistakes?
> 
> If you answered yes to any of those questions, you have come to the right place. 
> 
> (If you answered no you should still give it a shot, Viktuuri did made history and all)
> 
> * Bow down to the God JK Rowling (for the AU and the childhood :’))  
> ** Bow down to the God Kubo (for the gayz on animez)  
> *** Bow down to all my wonderful readers
> 
> Here are some disclaimers: I am not Russian, nor am I Japanese (I'm actually Chinese-Canadian if y’all are wanting to know) so all these cultural references come from research… blame the internet if they're wrong. Also! JK Rowling basically only mentioned the names of the other wizarding schools so I'm building off practically nothing, which means if anything doesn’t make sense you can blame me ;) and not JK Rowling. 
> 
> Please let me know what you guys think so far ^^ I have a loonnngg story planned, and hopefully it'll all work out in the end.
> 
> And also cheers to the last episode of YOI. I wanted to wait until the series finished before posting, but I couldn't wait. Let's just hope everything works out at the end and our skating gayz exchange vows <3

1.

 

In the spaces between Viktor’s fingers, a storm brewed. It was a modest storm, barely violent as of yet, but  _ wait, not yet _ \-- he was only just getting started. The clouds churned a colour almost comparable to Viktor’s hair, a gossamer silver that coiled like cobwebs in a palace where time was vacant, where it was free to spin under no scrutiny.

“Unsatisfactory at most, Vitya.” 

Unfortunately, Viktor was under scrutiny. He narrowed his eyes in concentration and nodded shortly. “I’ll make it grow.”

“Your storm is petty.” His uncle Yakov grunted from his seat a few meters away. “You aim for a graceful storm, but forget there is no such thing. What use is a war if it’s fought by the kind?”

Viktor sulked, dropping his arms to his sides. The beginning of the storm blew out like a lightbulb, deflating like a punctured balloon towards the horizon. “Uncle, what do you want from me?” 

“Anger.”

“But I’m not angry.” Viktor protested, keeping his voice stable as he was taught. “I’m never angry.”

Yakov scratched his chin, and then answered, “your nightmares,” and Viktor tensed. “Channel your fear of them. Your parents and your anger towards them. The fact that they left you. Then you will have yourself a powerful storm.”

Viktor obeyed, lifting his arms once again and focusing on one point within the clear sky, imagining a rupture. He didn't think of his nightmares, as they already occupied enough of his life, nor did he think of his parents. He'd stopped thinking about them years ago; it was far too late to begin, and it wasn't as if they'd ever thought of him, even before. 

Viktor began whispering his chant, drawing moisture from the waves lapping at the wall of boulders just beyond him. He concentrated them in a densely packed orb before scattering their every individual droplet within the quadrant of air he'd chosen. It was a difficult genre of koldovstvo (magic),  _ Burya _ , the manipulation of currents, a vague term, really, but it was as much Viktor’s duty to perfect as it was the sky’s. 

He focused on one droplet at a time, pulling them into strands thinner than a puff of air. Each strand needed to meet certain meticulous requirements or else the storm would collapse as rainfall, and Viktor would have to start again. He dreaded starting over. Each storm normally took a full two hours of concentration, and it wasn't uncommon for Viktor to conjure up to five storms in a day when his uncle was watching. 

Beads of sweat rolled down his neck and down the collar of his shirt, stimulating the ache in his back, and Viktor breathed out syllables of his chant in relief as he finished off the last strand. 

_ Finally -- _

A mass of peach and black appeared in his peripheral vision, too fast to be discernible and  _ no you don’t _ rammed straight through his storm quadrant, destroying every single strand he'd pulled in the last half hour. 

Viktor watched in fury as they drizzled back into the ocean. 

“Once again --”

“No, uncle.” Viktor fumed, walking closer to the cliff’s edge. “This is unacceptable, I'm going to get my half hour back, you just wait.” 

And Viktor dove off the cliff. 

He plummeted until he tasted the salt of the sea and hovered inches above the highest splatter of water, surveying the scene for the mass. Viktor wasn't sure what he was looking for; it could have been an animal or a magical beast of some sort - they were practicing at a shamanistic region on the quaint Japanese island of Ogasawara, but Viktor wouldn't be satisfied until he confronted it. 

And maybe let out all the anger he'd been suppressing all throughout the past week of Burya ritual training. 

It was childish, but Viktor was eleven, so he had an excuse. 

Viktor listened carefully and caught the sound of a high pitched shriek nearing, shrill enough to be human. He counted in his head and just as the mass passed by him, Viktor closed his eyes and suspended the air currents around him. 

When Viktor opened his eyes, he was looking at the back of a young boy. Hugging a broom, vertically. Still screaming. 

The pieces clicked in Viktor’s head. He was more than familiar with brooms and he'd definitely overheard his professors mention the existence of an institute for Volkhvy (magical folk) in Asia, though it was never specified where in Asia. 

The boy’s robes, in a traditional Japanese style, were dyed a pale peach colour. Across its back, a fox with nine tails was embroidered in a minimalistic manner, each tail unique on its own. His hair was as dark as ebony, and as messy as… Viktor’s first storm. 

The boy stopped screaming, and Viktor froze in his movements. 

“I’ve stopped.” The boy mumbled to himself, completely unaware of Viktor’s presence. “I’ve stopped, I’m dead? I am dead.”

“You aren’t dead.” Viktor said, not trusting the boy enough to let go. 

“Oh no, I’m already starting to hear voices.” The boy said quietly. “Voice, I’m dead, aren’t I? How did I die?”

“Like I said, you’re not dead. You’re just --”

The boy started to cry, clutching the broom like it was his tombstone.

“No, let me explain --”

“Stop talking to me!” The boy let go of the broom and cupped his hands around his ears. “I want to die in peace.”

Viktor suppressed a grin. He felt an ache developing in his shoulders, a sign that his magical abilities were straining. At this point, Viktor could either leave the boy to be or help him. He decided on the latter. “I’ll prove it to you, that you’re not dead.”

“You can?” The boy whimpered. 

“Yes, I can. Hold on to your broom and close your eyes. Follow my instructions.” Viktor willed the air currents around the broom to tighten and grabbed onto their “ends,” like reins so he could keep them under control. He released all other air currents besides those surrounding the boy’s body. The boy did as he was told, holding on tight despite wobbling for the first few seconds. “Tell me which direction you came from.”

The boy pointed in a general direction, “somewhere there. It’s my school -- you’ll see it when we get there. It’s white and and really big.”

“White and big, huh?” Viktor tried to keep his tone light despite the weight the boy was putting on his magic. He could hardly speak without panting. “I’ll take you there. Just make sure you hold tight and don’t look back, alright?”

The boy sniffed. “Thank you, massless voice.”

Viktor snickered, and willed them in the direction the boy had pointed to. Viktor trailed behind the boy, where he could remain only a  _ massless voice _ .    
  


 

***

  
  


Many kilometers later, Viktor began to feel lightheaded. It had been a bad idea, albeit an altruistic one to accompany the boy, but if he gave up now, both him and the boy, along with his berserk broom, would plummet to their doom. They’d travelled in silence up until then, and Viktor wondered whether speaking would distract him from his fatigue. 

“What’s your name?” Viktor said, trying to hide the tension in his voice. 

“I shouldn’t.” The boy said, dropping his head. “My grandmother taught me not to tell my name to strangers.”

“That’s fine.” Viktor couldn’t answer more coherently.

“But you saved my life so you’re not a stranger to me anymore. My name is Yuri.” The boy gave a laugh. “Katsuki. Yuri Katsuki.”

“Say, Yuri, what were you doing that got you here?” Viktor wondered out loud. A painful burning sensation collected in his lower back and began dispersing like a pulse throughout his body. “Were you playing around?”   
  
“Of course not!” Yuri exclaimed, offended. “I was practicing -- this is my first time. I saw some of my seniors flying in the clouds so I wanted to try too,” Yuri’s pout steeped in his voice. “So I followed them and then my broom stopped working. It went  _ crazy. _ ”

“It sure did go crazy.” Viktor chuckled. “You should be thankful that I found you.”

“Yes, massless voice, you’re my saviour.” Yuri piped. “When we get back I’m going to show you to my friends. I have a massless voice who’s my friend and they don’t. They’ll be so jealous.”

Viktor didn’t realize he’d already become a friend. “No, your friends can’t know about me.”

“Why not?”

“Because --” Viktor’s voice cracked, and something in his body did too, which sent a wave of nausea and pain crashing through his body. He and the boy dipped violently for a fraction of a second before he regained control. He continued as if nothing had happened, and Yuri followed his lead. “Because I’m supposed to be a secret. Because I’m your secret as of now. Also, Yuri, you shouldn’t cause jealousy in others, it’s not kind.”

Yuri nodded. Moments later, “massless voice, are you okay?” Yuri asked with genuine concern in his voice. “Are you hurt? Are you tired? Oh, but that doesn’t work, does it… You don’t have a body so you can’t be hurt. Do you have a sore throat then?”

“I’m fine.” Viktor replied, when he clearly wasn’t. At least, he would soon not be.

“Don’t lie to me.” It sounded heartbreaking. “When we get back to my school, I’ll bring you to our elders. I’ll trade in my Muryō (free time) for you, and they’ll make you better.”

“Yuri --”

“If not, then you can come with me, and I’ll make you lotus root water with pickled plums.” Yuri said enthusiastically. “I don’t know how you’re supposed to drink it if you don’t have a mouth, but we can figure it out when we get there. My grandmother brews me lotus root water and pickled plums whenever I get sick. They work well, and I’m living proof of it.”

Viktor nodded, but remembered Yuri couldn’t see him. 

“My grandmother told me to make sure my friends are healthy.” Yuri said, voice muffled by the wind that was beginning to rouse. “If my friends are healthy because of me,  my soul will be clean and I will be healthy. If my friends grow sick because of me, my soul will grow heaevy and I will become sick.”

“Yuri, are you a Volkhov?” Viktor wasn’t trying to divert the topic; he just needed time to think about what Yuri had said. 

“What does that mean?”

“A Volkhov,” Viktor sought a translation, a definition. “One who practices sorcery. You’re riding a broom, so I believe you are one.”

“Yes I am.” Yuri giggled looked up at the sky. “I’m very lucky to be a Volk… Volka? In my language, I am a Sōsarā … It is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. Sometimes I think that I must have been a powerful warrior in my past life, because good things always happen to me. Just like you, massless voice.”

“Me?” Viktor gaped. Meanwhile, his pain had been reduced to a dull throb. He wondered if it was the talking. “But you nearly died --”

“But I didn’t.” Yuri said softly. “You are a good thing, bringing me back to school even with a sore throat. You are a very good thing.”

  
  


***

 

Yuri’s school was both white and big, but never in his life had Viktor ever heard a more underwhelming description; although Yakov never let him go sightseeing when they visited Japan, Viktor could compare the school with a pagoda, but that would be an understatement too. The school was built from jadeite, of a mutton-fat opacity and colour, which made it appear as if it would persist through a typhoon, but fall apart when touched. While conventional pagodas had eaves that gradually reduced in size the higher it was built, Yuri’s school had the opposite structure: a gradual crescendo of eaves, like a prelude of silence and echoes and a postlude of vehement, ear-splitting noise. A perfectly symmetrical, bleached bonsai. 

“Is this your school?”

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” Yuri said, pride practically dripping from his lips as he spoke. “Mahoutokoro School of Wizardry.”

“Beautiful.” Viktor was in awe, breathless. 

A garden enclosing the school mapped a miniature version of their world, with rocks that piled dauntlessly into everests and Sopkas, and patches of green, some frosted over, others utterly parched, looked as if they could stretch forever if freed. Each of the seven oceans were shrunk down into a ponds both on land and in the sky; bamboo channels versed water from one pond, secured on land, to a pond hovering in midair, and then to multiple ponds suspended directly above. Koi fish leaped from pond to pond, sometimes missing and, rightfully abiding to the laws of gravity, fell back down to the pond on the ground. 

A fog cloud in the shape of a tiger, although it was more amorphous, sometimes more a fox or a butterfly, prowled the school garden like a protector, occasionally opening its mouth and letting out a roar that rang like a spring breeze through trees. 

It made his school, Koldovstoretz, seem dull and generic, something he would have never believed possible. 

“I’d better go now.” Viktor said, even though he wanted nothing more to go down and visit. He hardly believed he'd be welcome. “I'll make sure you land safely. But until your feet touch the ground, don't look back, Yuri. Do you understand?”

“Your throat, though.” Yuri said dejectedly. “How will I find you again?”

“You won't.” Viktor declared. “I have to leave now.”

“I'll take my chances -- next week at this time I'm going to make my broom go crazy again, so you can come save me. You will, won’t you?” 

“Don't do that.” Viktor warned. “Learn how to use your broom, instead. Learn it well. Maybe one day we’ll meet and you won’t be in grave danger.”

“I look forward to that day.” Yuri said with a hint of sadness, and Viktor was worried he would begin crying again. “Goodbye for now then, massless voice. Thank you -- I hope your throat heals soon.”

Viktor slowly dropped his hold on Yuri and his broom and watched his figure shrink and shrink until he was nothing more than a splotch of peach and black again, camouflaged in the beauty of the campus. As soon as Yuri landed, Viktor ducked behind a cloud and watched for a moment too long. 

A cherry blossom tree moved towards Yuri, on legs, Viktor noticed. One of its branches reached to its mane of blossoms and picked a single flower, sliding it into Yuri’s hair. 

Not once did Yuri look back; he listened well. Viktor realized then he hadn't once seen Yuri’s face. 

 

*** 

 

His uncle was furious. As expected, he always was. 

“Disappeared for hours…” His uncle spat at him. “Had the entire town looking for you, airplanes and binoculars, the amount of people I would’ve had to obliviate if they did manage to find you. You’ve wasted precious training time… We travel all the way here to give you seclusion and resources -- Vitya, what the hell were you thinking?”

“I saved someone. Made a friend.”

“That’s hardly an excuse.” Yakov grasped him by the wrist, a little too roughly, wrenching Viktor closer to him. “Does having a friend help you master your Burya? No, it doesn’t.”

Viktor’s mouth tightened, his eyes narrowing. He felt heat flood his cheeks. “Is it a crime to want to help someone?”

“Help yourself first.” Yakov tightened his grip and Viktor grimaced. “You are the last surviving descendent of the zduhaći. This power doesn’t grace just anybody, and look at you, squandering and showing it off like the  _ kid _ you still are --”

“You’re mistaken.” Viktor said gravely. The corners of his eyes tingled, and from the looks of his uncle, Viktor knew they were metamorphosing. Had they turned green? Black? “I’m trying my best.”

“And wasting your time making friends. Family is where your devotion and respect should lie. Friends, they will all leave you.”

“Just like my parents did, right?” Viktor shouted, hastily pulling his arm out of uncle’s grasp. The skin where his uncle had held was reddening, hopefully not into a bruise. “Just like them, family. And you aren’t even my real family.”

“Viktor --”

“I can’t talk to storms, can I?” Viktor’s eyes burned, and they soon rimmed with tears. Where the emotion was coming from, he didn’t know. “I can’t share my thoughts, they can’t keep my company. We can’t play games together, and I can’t even touch them without hurting myself. Why do I have to spend my entire life with them?” They fell, what Viktor first assumed were his tears, but then there were too many of them -- his tears couldn’t have fallen so far from his face, staining the rock next to his uncle’s shoe. 

Viktor wasn’t crying, it was raining. 

Yakov stopped in the midst of his anger and looked up, a look of awe washing over his features. 

Viktor did too, and he saw a stormcloud the size of the cliff they were standing on, leaking fat raindrops and sizzling electricity and emanating a thick, rich energy. The cloud funneled in two spots, both tracing back to his fingertips, which, too, were flickering with energy. 

He’d done it without a single incantation; he’d done it without meaning to.

Viktor’s frustration shifted into giddy delight. He laughed and held out his hand to collect the raindrops -- they massaged his body and tickled his scalp, but as happy as he was knowing his uncle wouldn’t have have a reason to pressure him anymore, Viktor was more concerned with one fact:

_ Friends do help. They really do. _

_ Thank you, faceless boy.  _


	2. wasuremono

2.   
  


“I’ll graduate, mom, don’t you worry.” His sister, Mari, assured his parents. “I’ll get accepted into medical school and make enough money to fill our hot springs with gold coins.”

“After ten years, give or take a decade.”

“Shut up, Yuri.” His sister whacked him in the arm. Yuri winced. “I’m leaving for a year and this is what you say to me?”

“We have such thing as computers, you know.” Yuri said nonchalantly, flipping through his phone looking for new games to download. “Phones were invented about a hundred and fifty years ago, we could use them too --” This time, his mother whacked him, in the head with a rolled up newspaper. 

“Yuri, say goodbye to your sister, she’ll be boarding soon.” Yuri looked up from the screen, pushing up his glasses in the process. He sighed and pocketed his phone. Yuri gave a light smile and hugged Mari, discreetly mouthing the characters of a kotodama,  _ Anzen-sei _ , or safety for the journey. He pulled away to find his sister in tears.

“You’re an obnoxious little brother sometimes, but I’m going to miss you.”

“Just bring back gold coins.” 

His sister scoffed, dabbing her eyes with a tissue. “I’m bringing them back for mom and dad, not you, Yuri.”

“Fine, do what you want.” Yuri pouted, crossing his arms.

His sister dropped her head and gave their parents another crushing hug. She brought out her passport and plane ticket and waved, pulling her suitcase with her towards the terminal. Yuri watched Mari until she passed through the doors and then began walking towards the front door of the airport. He kept his head low.

“Katsuki Yuri!” His mother called after him. 

Yuri kept walking. Once out the doors, he began making way to their parked car, passing weary taxi drivers and over-affectionate family members. Behind him, his mother and father sprinted to keep up, though Yuri didn’t slow his pace. 

He stopped once he reached the car, waiting for the keys to unlock them.

“What’s your hurry?” His mother asked, wheezing. “Your father and I were thinking of taking you out for lunch. Was there some place you needed to be?”

Yuri couldn’t meet his mother’s eyes. His fingers fumbled with the car door handle. 

“Yuri,” his mother noticed. “Are you crying?”

“No, unlock the door, mom.”

But he was lying. 

  
  


***

  
  


Yuri’s favourite thing in his room was his moving poster. 

Not his bed or his computer. 

A moving poster. 

It had frightened his mother when it first came in the mail, delivered onto their front porch by an oversized petrel. Yuri had ordered a gift for himself with his birthday money, something he’d been wanting for a long time, but could never find, at least not where they lived: Viktor Krum. 

Well, not really Viktor himself (he wished!), but a only poster of him. 

To others, Viktor, age sixteen, was the world-renown seeker of the even more world-renown Quidditch team, Montrose Magpies, which had won the League Cup a whole thirty-two times. To Yuri, Viktor was all that and everything more.  

The poster captured a snapshot of Viktor’s trademark victory pose, pressing the Snitch to his lips and then closing his eyes to blow a kiss towards the audience. For the first few seconds, the poster showed Viktor’s glass blue eyes in startling clear definition. The poster had some influence in Yuri’s decision that “glass blue,” or the shade of Viktor’s irises, was his favourite colour. 

Now, what Yuri experienced was not celebrity infatuation, or so he liked to believe, but rather admiration, one that encouraged him. Yuri wouldn’t admit it to anyone but himself, but he liked Viktor for more than just Quidditch. 

The poster looped again, and Viktor blew a kiss at him. Yuri was alone, so to his own embarrassment, he blew a kiss back. 

“Yuri, Viktor will always be on your wall, but your school supplies won’t buy themselves!” His mother called from the kitchen. “I know you’re staring at him again.”

“I’m not!” Yuri buried his burning face in his hands. He grabbed his backpack and shoved a series of items inside; Yuri’s hands lingered on an edition of  _ Mahou Yobun _ , where Viktor’s name graced the headline. 

_ Viktor Krum: Seeking Both Snitches and Hearts  _

Yuri suppressed a grin as he laid his eyes across a picture of Viktor, as beautiful as ever; a few years ago, Viktor had decided to grow out his hair, whose silver was Yuri’s second favourite colour. Now, Viktor’s hair was waist length, which during competition, he braided down his back; Viktor’s hair stood out in Quidditch games, making it easy for Yuri to spot him among the players zipping across the field, which made Yuri’s life so much easier since the only reason he watched the games were for Viktor.

Of course, there was the element of “watch-and-learn” too, on Yuri’s part, since he was training as a seeker of Mahoutokoro’s Quidditch team. It gave Yuri an excuse to fawn over Viktor. 

“Yuri!” 

“Coming!” Yuri pushed up his glasses, which had slid down his nose again. 

He finished packing his bag and swung it behind his shoulder. Before he could leave his room, an article at the corner of the front page, just below Viktor’s, caught his eye. 

_ Young Witch Found DEAD in Swamp Near Viktor’s Quidditch Match _

“Viktor, I hope you’re safe…” Yuri mumbled to himself, feeling slightly disrespectful towards the girl.

Before he could read on, “Yuri!” His mom screamed again.

Yuri bolted out the door.

  
  


***

  
  


“Sometimes, your father and I both,” Yuri’s mother squeezed past a pair of female Sōsarās, both with flaming red hair and blue skin. “Wish you were more like your sister.”

 

Yuri led the way, pushing past crowds and crowds of Sōsarās and other magical beings. There was one place he needed to get to, and he needed to get there fast. His mother’s words, he’d heard over and over again, every time they were in a vaguely magical setting. 

“Not to say there is anything wrong with you, Yuri, you’re wonderful as you are and we’re proud to be your parents, but to think that you could lead a normal life and go to school… Study diligently and get a job with good pay. Find a wife and settle down, and in live  _ normally _ and happily, for that matter _. _ Don’t you ever think about that, honey?”

“Mom, I’m planning on boarding this year.” Yuri announced. “Only weekly though. I’ll still make it home every weekend.”

His mother went silent. “Even more time at that.. Magic school? Well, what about food -- what if you get hungry? No one can make Katsudon like I can, what if you go hungry?”

“I’m twelve, mom -- Mari’s the one who left, not me, I’m still nearby. Every friday night, I’ll return by storm petrel and spend the weekends with you and dad.” Yuri said with a smile. “I just miss magic, you know? I can’t practice it here.”

“We understand, honey.” His mother’s face softened, but then saddened. “It’s so dangerous though, Yuri. You know about how we worry about you. ”

“Did you bring my wallet?” Yuri asked, refusing to take no for an answer. He was going to board no matter what.

“Yes, Yuri, but --”

“Can you throw it to me? I’m going to run so that I don’t miss the sale.” Yuri called across two levitating blobs of fur. “Just wait here for me -- don’t leave, or else I won’t be able to leave either. Thank you, mom.”

His mother, frantic, dug into her purse and pulled out an origami folded wallet. She launched it across the furry blobs, nearly falling over in the process. Flustered, his mother tried again. “Yuri, think about what I said, okay? Just a little bit, think about it. You can still go to school -- your father and I already contacted a really good institution for you and held you a spot in case you change your mind.”

But Yuri had already sped off into the distance, occasionally glancing at his watch to check the time. 

Shops selling “teas” with odd side effects offered him samples, which he declined, and book elves read out in singsong voices, lines from books that he’d already read over more than once during the summer.

“Young Sōsarā, how are you faring with that wand of your’s?” Japan’s only wandmaker said to him as he passed by. Out of politeness, Yuri stopped and bowed to the elder storekeeper. 

Yuri pulled his wand out of a compartment in the left temple of his glasses. It grew in size in his hand. “Thank you for pairing it with me last year -- it’s been wonderful, works perfectly and powerfully.” Yuri tried to predict what the wandmaker wanted to hear from him. A glance at his watch told Yuri he had only five minutes left before the sale began. 

“Wood of a sakura tree, and a dragon heartstring core.” The wandmaker said. “Your potential is teeming, Yuri.”

“Thank you, Wandmaker.” Yuri bowed again, restless. “I have to go, but may business flourish for you in the new year.”

Yuri left the wand store and ran for a full three minutes at top speed. He reached the ticketing booth just in time; a long line of young Sōsarās like himself and magical families wrapped around the block almost three times, showing the spectacle’s popularity. 

Yuri found a place in the back of the line and waited, unable to keep still. He waited, with the line shortening bit by bit marking each ticket sold. Yuri crossed his fingers and his toes and even his tongue, which he failed, in hopes that there would still be tickets left when it came to his turn. 

After a good half hour, Yuri stood on the tip of his toes and faced a box office worker, whose suit and tophat appeared to be an extension of his body. He slipped the coins underneath the plastic covers and and smiled at the worker wistfully. When two tickets were slid back to his side, Yuri had to restrain himself from jumping up and kissing the worker on the cheek (he didn’t do it, he swore), but Yuri still managed to scream loud enough he garnered the attention of everyone in his near proximity.

Embarrassed, Yuri bowed in several directions and walked back, rather slowly as he tried to savour the happiness he felt over the tickets, to where his parents were waiting. 

Yuri couldn’t believe it; every other time, it had been through the outdated methods of magical communication: newspapers, articles, photographs, even though they were often interactive. This time, he was actually going in person, with his friend Kenjirou, whom he’d bought the second ticket for, to watch a Quidditch game.

Not just a Quidditch game, but one where Viktor Krum would be playing, and in Yuri’s mind, he wasn’t going to watch a Quidditch game, rather, he was going for Viktor. 

A wave of happiness rushed over Yuri and he couldn't  _ screw it  _ help himself _.  _

Yuri turned around and ran back to the ticket booth, squeezed past the couple who was purchasing tickets at the booth where he'd bought his own tickets, flashed the flesh-suited worker a brilliant smile, and kissed “him” on the cheek. 

The worker’s cheek tasted like parched leather and spare change that had been passed from one to too many hands, a disgusting mixture, really. 

But for Viktor, Yuri would do next to anything. 

 

***

 

Yuri and Kenjirou didn’t have the best seats. This was partially Yuri’s fault for not being earlier for the sale, but mostly Kenjirou’s fault because the only pair of tickets left were much farther from the playing field than a single ticket would have been. 

“Let’s not be negative.” Kenjirou said, smiling and baring his fangs slightly. “Your parents didn’t lock you in your room this time. It’s a miracle.”

“True.” Yuri strained his neck, trying to see over the heads of spectators in the rows in front of him -- Yuri appreciated the banners and head accessories with Viktor’s face on them, but he didn't appreciate them blocking his view of the  _ real  _ Viktor. “But it's because I told them the teacup was a birthday present for Mari and not a portkey to Belgium.”

“Still a miracle, do you figure they'll notice?”

“It's the middle of the night in Japan right now.” Yuri beamed, priding himself in his reckless planning. “They won’t suspect a thing. I'm a quiet sleeper.”

“But you’re not a quiet sleeper.” Kenjirou said, puzzled. “You snore, sleep talk, and you kick everything on the floor, including me. Don't you remember that time we had a sleepover and I woke up in the bathtub, because you kicked me there in your sleep --” 

“Okay, okay.” Yuri pressed a finger onto Kenjirou’s lips. “Let's just enjoy Viktor.”

“Enjoy the game, you mean?” 

“That, I mean that.” Yuri said absentmindedly. He mumbled a kotodama,  _ Shikaku _ , and the prescription of his glasses enhanced, acting like a pair of binoculars or a twin pair of magnifying glasses. He sighed in relief, finally being able to see the field clearly.

Yuri scanned the pitch from left to right, up to down. Spectators, clearly of all ethnicities, magical and global, occupied the spherical seating area. Yuri’s heart fell as he remarked the amount of people, besides him, here for Viktor. He counted a good third with Viktor specific merchandise and more than half wearing the Montrose Magpies official colours: black and white, but also cerulean and indigo from an angle. Yuri wasn’t the only devoted Viktor fan here, he was only… among. 

“Your dad’s going to pick us up from here, right?” Yuri asked. “Here, as in my window, where I left the portkey. My mom’s going to try and convince me again to stay and follow Mark, and I don’t want to keep refusing her.”

“Definitely!” Kenjirou grinned. His fangs poked out of his lips, and Yuri could barely hide his jealousy, jealousy that he couldn’t be with magic, feel it, embrace it, and enjoy it all the time like Kenjirou. “The petrels are coming in a week or so, and you can stay with us until then.”

“He’ll write to my parents too, right? To explain that I’ve been called to school early for Quidditch practice.” 

“Yup!”

“And he  _ won’t _ use bloodstained parchment this time?” Yuri cringed inwardly, imagining his parents’ reaction to the company he was keeping. “The full moon was two weeks ago. Have all your livestock have been blood-drained already?”

“No, not yet.” Kenjirou looked apologetic. “Father went kind of… all out last time. It’s the stress of dealing with the recent kuromahou outbreak. Dark Sōsarās are must keeping busy with the start of the school year.”

“I’ve read in the news.” Yuri remembered. “Do you know about the murder at Viktor’s last game, the girl?”

“Oh yes, my father spoke to me about that.”

“Does he think it’s anything serious?”

“He’s not sure yet, but it’s kind of strange that the last murder was so similar, being near Viktor’s Quidditch game and a girl, too --”

“Shush.” Yuri cut him off rudely. It was his excitement’s doing. Trumpets amplified by magic spilled into the arena, temporarily deafening him. “The game’s about to start.”

“But, Yuri don’t you want to know about --”

“Shut up, please.”

A fluttering weight settled onto Yuri’s chest; not butterflies, but moths. Moths to a light that was Viktor himself, who was about to enter the stadium along with the rest of the Montrose Magpie team. Yuri felt like he was flying, but shackled down because he was so  _ among _ , so far away and insignificant, as a splotch of unidentifiable colour in the arena’s seats. To Viktor, he was next to nothing, but it didn’t stop the moths -- it didn’t stop Yuri from loving Viktor with his heart and everything else he was probably incapable of offering at such a young age. 

_ INTRODUCING… MONTROSE MAGPIES, CHAMPION OF LAST YEAR’S LEAGUE CUP.  _  The announcer’s voice echoed around the stadium like a mosquito trapped in a PA system. 

The announcer’s words breezed past Yuri’s ears, which acted like a meticulous sifter, filtering out what he didn’t care to hear, and letting the one thing he wanted to hear filter through.

_ LADIES, GENTLEMEN, AND GREATER BEINGS, BEHOLD… VIKTOR KRUM! _

The crowd exploded. 

Yuri’s eyes caught the figure entering the stadium, as graceful as a hummingbird navigating a world fitted to its breadth. The audience responded to his entrance like thunderbolts from an angry God, roaring like the Gods themselves. Viktor Krum was before them, his hair glinting under what was left of the summer sun, illuminating the space around him, an aura that was always there, but normally shone too bright to be visible.

Yuri inhaled a gasp. His glasses slid down his nose.

Yuri didn’t know what the correct definition of love, at age twelve, but if it wasn’t what he felt laying his eyes on Viktor as he flew into the stadium, then Yuri would no longer be on the pursuit of love, no more. At age twelve, this was quite a declaration.

  
  


***

  
  


_ VIKTOR KRUM HAS SPOTTED THE SNITCH. THERE HE GOES! VIKTOR DIDN’T SET THE WORLD RECORD FOR NOTHING. THERE HE GOES -- THERE HE GOES! _

Yuri’s eyes hurt from  _ not _ blinking -- he didn’t want to miss any detail, any movement, any opportunity to watch of Viktor from a different angle. During times of suspense, Yuri’s heart dared to jump out of his body and start cheering on its own, but then Yuri reminded himself he needed his heart to give to Viktor.

Viktor had spotted the snitch, captain obvious the commentator was, feeling the need to point it out. Everyone could tell. Viktor’s posture changed when he found the snitch; rather than a lioness prowling prey, he embodied the savannah itself. 

He soared from one corner of the stadium to the other, each round-trip in second intervals. Yuri mumbled a series of kotodamas, however useless his Sensei’s told him they were, while reprimanding his outlandish reading habits. “ _ Kichi, Chikara, Sokudo,”  _ luck, strength, and speed respectively.

Kenjirou pumped his fists in the air at the action happening at the center of the field, where goals were being scored at quicker-than-normal rates. Meanwhile, Yuri’s eyes followed Viktor.

It was a shame Yuri couldn’t see the snitch for himself; his eyesight was far too poor. Even with the vision kotodama, and he found it hard to spot even the Quaffle. 

_ VIKTOR IS CLOSING IN. HE IS INCREASING HIS SPEED -- IT SEEMS AS IF THE SNITCH HAS STOPPED!  _

_ CHRISTOPHE GIACOMETTI FROM THE SWITZERLAND NATIONAL TEAM HAS ALSO SPOTTED THE SNITCH.  _

_ IT’S A RACE AGAINST TIME, THE TWO FASTEST SEEKERS COMPETING FOR THE SNITCH -- HERE THEY GO! _

_ SPECTATORS, FEAST YOUR EYES. _

The ceiling of the stadium lit up, first bright and saturated. Yuri ignored it at first, keeping his gaze on Viktor, who was flying closer to their section of the stadium. He neared, closer and closer until Yuri could distinguish the loose strands of hair across his face, over his piercing, glass blue eyes. He took this as an accomplishment. 

Yuri felt like he was in a trance, hence the buzzing he noted in his ears. At the worst possible moment, Kenjirou poked him in the arm. 

“What --"

“Yuri, look up!” 

Yuri did and saw his own face, bewildered, drawn by sprite pointillism on the ceiling. The seats to his sides, front, back, behind, all watched him carefully. At first, Yuri didn’t know why -- he’d never been at the center of attention, and all he was doing was fawning over Viktor. But directly to the left of his ear, buzzing, was the Golden Snitch. 

Yuri gasped, looking down from the screen. The buzzing was only in one of his ears -- Yuri cringed at his own ignorance. Just as he was about to turn his head, the snitch flew directly in front of his nose and twitched. 

And he froze like that, unable to process the events before him, and he momentarily forgot that he was at Viktor Krum’s Quidditch match, and that Viktor was a  _ seeker _ .

He remembered it a little too late -- Yuri snapped out of his trance to a pair of beautiful eyes, the colour and consistency of waves breaking against a white-grained shoreline, but the waves were too close, way too close. Silver hair billowed like a halo, and Yuri swore he was as good as dead, because he while he remembered Viktor, he’d forgotten how to breathe.

Viktor, so close, too close, reached his arm towards Yuri as if to touch his cheek, and snatched the golden orb from in front of his face. 

Yuri snapped out of his trance a second time, took a double-take, and nearly fainted. Viktor Krum was right in front of him. Out of all the  _ among _ , Viktor had found him.

The audience roared like the waves that crashed into Viktor’s eyes. Montrose Magpies was on its way to its thirty-third win, and Viktor had sealed their victory with a perfect catch, like always. Viktor did his signature move, bring the snitch to his lips and kissing it; and yes, Yuri did think about of how close was to his lips, and how close to Yuri that would make the kiss. 

And then he spoke, to Yuri. “Thank you.”

_ Thank me? _ Yuri wanted to scoff. He should be the one bowing and pledging his life to Viktor worship.

“I…”

“For keeping the snitch for me.” Viktor’s voice was deep and contrasted from his angelic features. Yuri heard him loud and clear above the audience. Kenjirou remained silent. “It must have really liked you.”

The commentator was going crazy, sputtering and cheering, maybe forgetting his voice was being broadcasted to the entire stadium. It was crazy. 

“Viktor,” was all Yuri could manage.   


Viktor gave him a smile, so soft and beautiful, Yuri suffocated in a pleasant way. “What’s your name?”

“It… it’s Yuri.” Yuri said, voice quivering. “Katsuki Yuri.”

Viktor paused for a moment and then broke out in a blinding smile. He laughed, a sound that echoed and echoed in Yuri’s head, bouncing against the happiness centers of his brain. “Katsuki Yuri, it’s been a while.”

Yuri said nothing. He couldn’t take his eyes away. He especially couldn’t blink.

“You’ve grown. So this is what your face looks like, it’s quite cute.” Viktor said. “Have learned how to ride a broom yet?”

Yuri nodded.

“Great.” Viktor smiled again. Yuri loved it. “I guess I’ll be seeing you on the field soon?”

Yuri nodded again.

Viktor leaned closer to him and rubbed him on the head, messing up his already unmanageable head of hair. He gave Yuri one last smile and sped off towards the center of the playing field, holding the snitch high above his head. Gold and silver, Yuri had to choose the latter. A thousand times, maybe a couple more, he would make this decision.

Right now, his problem was that he had heard absolutely none of what Viktor had said to him.

  
  


*** 

  
1\. Katsuki Yuri was a good student.

For example, “You finished the assignment?” His classmate was four years older than him, but both of their robes were stained orange, meaning they were at the same “wisdom” level. “Right. No need to ask a fucking smartass. Listen, you’re going to slip it through my shoji tonight after curfew -- before that, you’re going to reword every sentence. Make it simpler, I don’t want your deep shit on my record.” Yuri found it shameful to be on the same wisdom level as him.

“Yeah.”

“What’s with that tone, Katsuka?” His classmate frowned. On his sleeve was an embroidered bear that could be mistaken for a stain. “You don’t want to?”

“No, I don’t want to.” Yuri said. “But if I don’t do this, you’re going to make me fly for three hours straight tonight after practice, and I’d much rather be doing better things, so I’m putting up with your shit for now, captain.” Yuri stood up curtly, bowed in a sardonic manner, and left the room.

Katsuki Yuri was also an idiot.

Exhibit umpth, “it’s just a test score, no need to be so upset about it.”

Yuri cried a lot, like he was now. 

“Sensei Ishikawa understood you -- she’s even giving you the chance to redo it, isn’t that good enough for you?”

“I failed.”

“You didn’t fail, Yuri.” Phichit, a permanent exchange student from Thailand, rubbed his shoulders, which shook from his sobbing. “You just messed up once, that’s all.”

“I messed up.” Yuri repeated, bursting into tears once again. “I did mess up.”

“No, no.” Phichit panicked. “No I didn’t mean that. You’re only fourteen, there’s no life-or-death yet… nothing matters right now.”

“I’m going to,” Yuri wiped at his eyes under his glasses, which fogged up. “Practice Quidditch now.”

Phichit frowned in disbelief. “But there’s two meters offers snow outside --”

“見ぬが花 (Not seeing is a flower;  _ reality can't compete with imagination _ ).” Yuri said as he gathered his equipment, slipping on a thick Haori. He bit his lip. “That’s the proverb I forgot on the examination. The only one."

Yuri might’ve felt all high and mighty as he rode in circles somewhere up in the stratocumulus, he wasn’t really sure of which cloud layer because he was so emotional, but when he woke up two days later in the infirmary with frostbite on both feet and one hand, he only felt like an idiot.

He realized he was too emotional for his own good. 

“What should I do?”

“Hm…” Phichit pondered for quite a while, actually. “Make some smart goals. Don’t cry for an entire month, if you do, I’m eating your dinner. And Kenjirou and I won’t comfort you. We’ll force you to interact with Kuma (bear) students.” Phichit grinned.

Yuri narrowed his eyes. “It’s set. That’s what I’ll do to overcome this awful…  _ emotion. _ ”

After four out of seven days of famished evenings, utter loneliness, and the curse-ridden spit of the Kuma house, Yuri decided he was fine with being emotional after all -- it could be used as an asset. At fifteen, Yuri didn’t know too much about girls and whatever it was that made them “tick,” besides long hair and high-pitched voices. He did know, however, that they were captivated by sensitive men. He at least knew this much. 

When he told this to his friends, they cried… from laughter. 

“Yes, you go and cry in the girls washroom.” Phichit mocked. “And maybe some girl will come cry with you and you’ll get married. Seems like that’s how you think it works.”

“Is it not?” Yuri asked, crestfallen -- an exaggeration. He dropped his head; girls were to difficult to decipher. He prefered spending time with guys, they were like open books, with no words, of course. And girls were only words, with no cover, no binding, no pages, just plain, elaborate words in a language Yuri didn’t know how to read. 

“My sister likes you.” Kenjirou added. “She says she wants to marry you too.”

“She only likes the way I taste.”

“No.” Kenjirou said defensively. “She doesn’t bite just anyone -- and she’s only a fourth werewolf. It’s not like biting you’s going to do any damage --”

Yuri, exasperated almost started crying again.

2\. Katsuki Yuri was best friends with a tree.

Correction: she wasn’t just a tree; her name was Hana (blossom). She was one of seven Sei-sakura (living cherry blossoms) on campus, who took care of the students and offered them love in the absence of their parents. Gentle creatures, the Sei-sakura were. They lived in the Sekai (world) Garden, under an umbrella maple that spanned twenty meters across, and it was somewhere Yuri frequented, especially when he felt under the weather and needed some shelter without other probing humans. 

Their bond wasn’t random, it was instinctual; Yuri’s wand was constructed of cherry wood directly stripped from Hana, one out of two wands constructed from her bark. This way, Hana developed a liking to him, and took him for family. Her motherly air always made Yuri miss his mother, even though he wasn’t a “full” boarding student at Mahoutokoro.

She couldn’t speak in their language, but her thoughts could be translated by a single jyumon (spell), and were often wiser than anything any nation-validated sensei could procure. 

_ Are you thinking of the Quidditch player again? _

_ Viktor Krum is his name. _

“You remembered his name.” Yuri smiled at Hana, whose blossoms were especially lovely nestled under the spring’s warmth.

_ Half of your thoughts comprise of him.  _

“Ah, sorry for that.” 

_ Loving the image of a person is unwise. He is someone you seldom understand. He has a beautiful mask, elegantly crafted, which enchants the eyes of every passing beholder.  _

Yuri scratched his head. He acknowledged Hana’s advice, but it didn't mean he wanted to. “I think I’m in too deep to back out now, Hana”

_ That is true.  _

Hana’s eyes, which were think indents in the bark, curved down. 

_ Pledge to love yourself more than you love Viktor Krum, or else you may end up heartbroken and not possess the ability to fix it yourself. The pain of a broken heart is most intangible, but constant and profound, my dear Yuri. _

“Yeah.” Yuri answered, because he was too young to understand. “I’ll love myself.” But Yuri only expected to love himself  _ equally _ as much as he loved Viktor, which was a hefty amount on its own.

3\. Katsuki Yuri played Quidditch, and was actually pretty good at it.

The story was as follows: long ago, two foolhardy Hogwarts students crashed onto Minami Iwo Jima, an island thought to be uninhabited by humans on which Mahoutokoro was built. They were taken in by two equally as foolhardy Mahoutokoro purple-robes, which violated the school and Japanese Ministry mandate to never allow interschool interactions, a mandate that was abolished a century later. They remained at Mahoutokoro until Hogwarts could send over a representative to deal with policy conflict and escort them back. The Hogwarts representatives arrived prompt, but not prompt enough that no traditions were swapped; the Hogwarts students had already introduced an odd sport, of European tradition, to several Mahoutokoro students, who took up interest immediately.

That sport was Quidditch, and the rest was buried so deep in history, no one even bothered to dig.

They were in mid-practice game. The Mahoutokoro Team was made up of students from all houses, unlike most other wizarding schools, where teams were unique to each house. Mahoutokoro’s small student body was equally as disadvantageous as it was advantageous, one disadvantage being their Quidditch team. 

The inter-house team was victim to much dissonance. Rarely did students from different houses get along; especially the polar opposites, the Kuma (bear) and the Kitsune (fox) house, who fought at every given (and not given) occasion. The Kuma were reckless and brute, but bold and simple, while the Kitsune were sentient and insightful, but often arrogant and judgmental. 

“Am I invisible or somethin’, Katsuka?” His Kuma classmate from before, Ryusei, a tall and lanky boy with long, tangled hair -- their robes were still the same colour: green -- hurled a Bludger at him. Yuri dipped in a quick motion and avoided it by a hair. “You look at me when I’m talking to you.’

“It’s Katsuki.” Yuri rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, I was trying to find something.”

“What?” Ryusei barked. 

_ Wow.  _ Yuri was appalled.

“The Snitch. It’s kind of my job.” Yuri shrugged, nonchalant. “Your job is to knock people off their brooms, not to talk to me. So if you don’t mind --” 

A Bludger shot from nowhere missed Yuri’s nose by a single centimeter. If Yuri had reacted a second later, his entire face would have caved in.

“Fucking…” Yuri mumbled, ‘revving’ his broom and aiming its handle at Ryusei. He furrowed his eyebrows and channelled Viktor’s speed, but discarded his grace, because at this very moment, he needed speed and force only, to beat their so-called Beater, preferably damage him more than a Bludger could --

Yuri ‘pulled the breaks’ on his broom, coming to an abrupt stop. He faced their Keeper, a blue-robed girl named Yuuko, stone-faced and about to exert her righteous authority as captain. She was a Nishikigoi (koi) student, so it was only expected of her.

“For a sixteen year old, you’re pretty immature, Yuri.” Yuuko said, crossing her arms. Her dark hair was braided to the side, though not as nicely as Viktor’s used to be before he cut off his hair, which was heartbreaking. “Yuri.”

“Yes.”

“Look at me when I’m speaking to you.”

“Yes, senpai.” Yuri looked up. He swallowed, but had no spit. 

“Immature as you are, I have good news -- Ryusei, I need you to sit out of the next round. Go take a seat on the stands and play with the Kappas (magical turtle-like creatures). They need some company.” After Ryusei left, Yuuko, returned her attention to Yuri. “Talent scouts were here the other day, and they watched the game we played against the Ilvermorny Thunderbird Team. Representatives from the Toyohashi Tengu.” 

Yuri’s eyes brightened at the mention of the Tengu, who were the current Champion League winners. 

“Yuri, you’re zoning out again.” 

“Yes, sorry.” Yuri tried to bow whilst mounted on his broom. It didn't work. 

“They want you.”

“Who wants me?” Yuri asked, but slapped himself in his head when he realized, and then almost started crying. “Tengu? Me?”

“I believe I spoke clearly enough.” Yuuko said, a smile slipping onto her lips. “They’re recruiting you as an apprentice seeker for next season, and I was told to inform you --”

“Yes!” Yuri said. He nearly fell off his broom in excitement. He’d interrupted Yuuko again,  _ fuck _ . “Sorry. Please, finish.”

“You’ll be training as an apprentice outside of school, during the weekends, so that means you’ll have to sacrifice visiting home every week. Would that be okay with you?” 

“Yes, when do I start?” Yuri said without hesitation. 

“This week.” Yuuko’s eyes glittered with pride, for Yuri, and Yuri grinned back at her. “The Petrels will be here for you Friday after school.” Yuuko brushed her hair behind her ear and blushed. “You’ve got talent, Yuri. It’s uncommon for a Sezo to possess such skill, and that makes you so special. Once you get up there, don’t forget about Mahoutokoro and don’t forget about --”

“I won’t forget you.” Yuri interrupted. 

“Yuri.” 

Yuri smiled at the mention of his name. He understood Yuuko. Yuri still didn’t understand girls, not at all. Yuri did, however, fly up to Yuuko, blush-cheeked and shy, which went completely against her usual character, and kiss her on the cheek. His glasses nearly slid off his face. Flustered, he distanced himself and bowed to her on his broom, before flying out of the field.

Later that day, on the phone (which was prohibited, by the way) with his parents, “we’re so happy for you Yuri.” His mom said.

“Really?” Yuri asked tentatively. “No more ‘beware of the dangerous magicks, come back and go to dentistry school’ kind of thing you always told me?”

“No.”

“And you won’t try to convince me again?” 

“We can’t promise that.”

Yuri chuckled, scratching his neck. It was a good try. “Mom, can you put dad on the line?”

After some scrambling, his dad picked up the phone. He cleared his throat, but said nothing. Yuri rarely heard his dad’s voice, because like Hana, he only said what was necessary. 

“Hey dad.” Yuri tried. “I’ll be home during New Years, but until then, take care of mom for me, alright? She gets really fussy these days, and it would be great if you could help her  _ not _ worry about me -- at Tengu, they confiscate our ‘Sezo (mundane) objects,’ so I’ll only be able to write to you.”

His dad cleared his throat again.   


“Also, when I get back, make sure mom doesn’t make too many servings of Katsudon -- last time, a lot of it got wasted. I’ll miss you.”

Yuri heard nothing for a while, and then his dad spoke, finally. “I’ll miss you too.”

“Good, that's good. Bye, then. Tell mom bye too.” Yuri said cheerily. He hung up. 

_ Stop being emotional, Katsuki Yuri,  _ he told himself as he walked up the white jadeite staircase to ,  _ you have to face people like Ryusei later, stop being so emotional _ .

Even the thought of Tengu and Viktor couldn’t stop tears from running down his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ehhh.
> 
> Second chapter of the story and they still don't meet sORRY. Thank you to all those who subscribed and are interested in how I'm going to tackle this (I probably won't. I'll probably meekly hit it and apologize), but regardless, I have more of this planned now and hopefully it'll work out :3
> 
> Happy new years, guys, and let this new year bring us season two of our lovelies. Or at least not throw another aot on us ;)
> 
> Anyway, please let me know what you think and any inaccuracies, otherwise, enjoy :3 :3


End file.
